


He's a pirate

by Theonenamedafterahat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pirates of the Caribbean AU, Rick and Daryl are reluctant Pirates, but for different reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonenamedafterahat/pseuds/Theonenamedafterahat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commodore Rick Grimes is not, nor has he ever been, a pirate (except he is), and Daryl Dixon's got pirate in his damn blood, but now he's finished (except he isn't). They find common interests when Daryl's dead brother's mutinous crew kidnaps Rick's son, but there ain't no way this is gonna be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's a pirate

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I wrote a Rickyl Pirates of the Caribbean AU. I couldn't help myself.

It's not that Daryl can't look after himself. He's always been as good a hunter as he was sailor; he can feed himself each day and find a place to sleep at night with little trouble - he's just not so great on his own. Never has been. That had kept him with his lousy drunken brute of a father, least until Merle came back with a ship, a crew and all those bullshit promises. But now Merle's gone and Daryl ain't, so he's just going to have to live with that. Port Royal's as good a place as any to set himself up.

Daryl can't go back to the sea. Not yet, with the fresh memory of that tiny spit of land that was supposed to be his grave, and his brother's ship sailing off into the distance. After the mutiny, there was no question that the rest of the crew were going to kill Captain Merle Dixon - marooning his younger brother while the former captain watched on, helpless, was just cruelty, far as Daryl knows. They were pirates alright, and _motherless bastards_ and _lousy two-faced rats_ and _traitors doomed to the deepest depths of hell_ , and everything else Merle screamed at them as they sailed for that horizon, out of Daryl's sight. Daryl had been alone, on that island, Merle's medallion from the treasure Daryl had been ' _forbidden from touching because he didn't help the crew take it, damn it little brother'_ at his feet and perfectly useless for anything. 

At least Merle had cared, in the end. That had to count for something.

No, Daryl can't go back to sea - but he can't stray far from the shoreline without feeling wrong, though he curses himself for it every single day.

'Pirate's in our blood, little brother, ain't nothing you an' I can do about that. 'Cause there ain't nothin' stronger than blood, ya hear me?' Merle had been dead drunk - they both had - but it was the truth. That was everything Daryl had ever been taught, right there.

He keeps to himself, away from people, because the problem with stayin' close to the sea is that some day somebody's gonna notice him there. From those fucking stories, mainly (but maybe, just maybe someone'll recognise him who actually has a reason to. Daryl ain't no saint, Merle sure as hell wasn't - that's fair. If it ever happens, Daryl won't fight it, but he'll be damned rather then get taken for some thrice-damned bedtime story).

They're mainly about Merle anyway - if he features, it's as his brother's crossbow-wielding shadow. Somehow that doesn't seem to do him any good though. There's all kinds of speculation about him. The famous Daryl Dixon, brother to Merle Dixon, who always could take down a man with one hand, so didn't have much of a problem when he lost one of 'em. Just replaced it with a sword, rather than the conventional hook, so he could keep on killin'. Daryl once heard a tavern girl swear blind that his brother had it bitten off by a shark, which was just so absurd that he'd started laughing; he'd gotten his ass handed to him for it. Hell, Merle hadn't even told him what happened to his hand, just laughed it off same as he always did, but it sure as hell weren't no damn _shark_. 

'Cause of the stories, most folks know about Daryl's tattoo, so he keeps his sleeves long, and he doesn't take his crossbow into town. 

It's been ten fucking years of hard work with no direction and no end in sight. Daryl figures he doesn't deserve any less. If he didn't have the hope that someday that ship would come back again, over that horizon, he wouldn't have stuck it out this long. See, Daryl's made a promise; if he ever sees those sails again he'll kill every single one of those  _motherless bastards_ and _lousy two-faced rats_ and _traitors doomed to the deepest depths of hell._

 ---

The garrison are all at some Shindig for a fellow named Grimes at the fort, so Daryl's in town for some food he didn't have to track and slaughter himself. 'Cause the interesting thing is, even though they don't know him (the name John Smith has opened all kinds of doors) those Navy men can still _see_ him. Normally the entire time he's in town there's at least two men following him, right at the corner of his eye, setting off all the instincts beaten into him that tell him to _get away_. That's exactly what he did do the first time - practically ran back to his shack, spend the next few hours pressed against the wall, clenching his jaw to stop from screaming at someone long dead. 

Weak, Merle had called it, but Merle didn't know _shit_ because he left before things got really bad, and was stupid enough to think that he had been the only one to suffer at the hands of their father. 

Daryl would like to say that he's got better since then. Can't though. 

He can't think like that today though - it's a clear day, the tobacco in his pipe's good as long as he doesn't think about what the seller probably mixed it with, and the Navy are gone. According to the girls at the Dock, they're making Grimes a commodore. Daryl pities the poor bastard - like any sailor worth a damn wants to be anything other than captain. 

It's 'cause of the girls that he notices Grimes walking the battlements above the dock, and _yeah,_ Daryl thinks, _that man's a captain._

There's a boy walking beside him, probably his son. They walk in the same way, though Daryl thinks they probably don't notice it. Their heads are proud.

Daryl sees the boy fall, and all that pride is gone from Grimes by the time the kid hits the water.

He can hear Grimes high above - _'CARL!','Sir, the rocks! It's a miracle he missed them!'_  - But Daryl ignores him though, diving in, following the dark shape, drifting deeper down to the sandy sea bed. 

It's treacherously cold, and Daryl's prepared for that, it's no wonder the boy - Carl, Daryl's gonna save this kid, he might as well use his name - isn't moving. 

The _pull-push_ motions of his arms and legs are familiar, but Daryl doesn't let himself think about that; he can't if Carl's gonna to live. And he is going to live, _he is_ , Daryl's never lost a kid he made up his mind to save before, he won't start now even if the rest of his life's gone to shit. 

So he ignores the burning in his chest and the pull of the currents and drags himself through the water. 

He's soon reached Carl, and grabbing his shirt in one hand, and uses the other to remove the boy's boots. All Daryl can think when he kicks off the sea bed is that the medallion is weighing him down more than the boy.  

They break the surface, and strong hands are tearing Carl away, all the while Daryl can't focus on anything but the wind that has changed direction since he entered the sea, and the clouds that cover the sky.

Merle's medallion is burning.  

 

 


End file.
